


1968

by mlea7675



Category: The West Wing
Genre: 1960s, Canonical Character Death, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Romance, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlea7675/pseuds/mlea7675
Summary: 1968. A pivotal year in American history. And for the men and women who later serve the President of the United States (as well as the future President himself), the year will see big changes: some good, some not so good-and some unspeakable.
Relationships: Abbey Bartlet/Jed Bartlet
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue: A Year of Turmoil and Change

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Here’s a new story! This will be a little different-an origin story. I hope you enjoy, please read and review!

Prologue: A Year of Turmoil and Change 

_ Sunday, December 31, 1967  _

_ Islington, London, England _

25-year-old Jed Bartlet readied the champagne bottle on the coffee table. Looking around at the small London flat, he knew that he was in for quite an interesting few years. His graduate degree at the London School of Economics was going to be a long time in coming, but he would work hard every step of the way, especially since he had worked to save up money for school for two years. And it was New Year's Eve, a time of renewed promises and renewed growth. 

He checked his watch. It was now 11:54 London time, and 6:54 in New Hampshire. On the small radio-they couldn’t afford a real TV set, other than the portable TV-the BBC was playing sounds of a New Year’s party at a local ballroom. But the best part of his New Year was getting ready in their bedroom. 

He smiled as he thought about Abbey. His wife of six months, they had met four years ago that night, in fact-their junior year of college. She went to St. Mary’s and he went to Notre Dame. After only a month of knowing her, he knew she was the woman for him. But there was a slight roadblock, and it was called becoming a priest. However, as he fell more and more in love with the beautiful brunette pre-med student from Boston, he found himself being drawn away from his dreams of becoming a priest. He eventually changed his major to American Studies. 

They became engaged after graduation, with a plan to be married once Abbey finished medical school and Jed had his Master’s-and Jed had saved enough money to attend graduate school. But an offer from the prestigious London School of Economics changed all of that. After much talk and discussion, they decided the best thing to do would be for them to get married right away and move to London as newlyweds. Abbey got special permission and dispensation to put off her clinical rotation years until she returned. The pair were married that June and headed to London that August. Now, on New Year’s Eve, Jed couldn’t believe how lucky he was. 

“Abbey!” he called. “The BBC isn’t going to wait for you to see the new year in!” 

“Hold your horses, I’m coming!” She opened the door, and Jed’s mouth dropped open. She was wearing a short black nightgown, a wedding gift from her maid of honor Millie. 

Jed let out a low whistle. “You look…incredible.” 

“I should,” Abbey said. “It took me twenty minutes to decide what to wear.” 

“Well...I for one can’t wait to get it off of you.” Jed said suggestively, before kissing her passionately. 

“Jed!” Abbey said, laughing. “We’re gonna miss the countdown!” 

And as if on cue, the BBC radio announcer intoned, “And in fifteen seconds, it will be the New Year, 1968!” 

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” the couple counted together. 

As the crowd on the radio went wild, the sound of the old classic “Auld Lang Syne” poured through the speakers. Jed and Abbey kissed as two newlyweds. 

“Happy New Year.” Abbey smiled against Jed’s lips. 

Jed broke the kiss. “Happy New Year.” He picked up the champagne glasses and poured one for each of them, handing one to Abbey. “May 1968 be one of happiness and prosperity.” 

“You said that right,” Abbey said, clinking her glass with his. “Maybe this time next year, we’ll have a little baby to share it with.” 

“Yeah,” Jed replied, his mind wandering at the idea of a little boy or girl playing on the carpet next to him. “Maybe.” 

… 

_ Chicago, IL:  _

Captain Leo McGarry stood at the bar, taking in the wild New Year’s scene that was the Hilton Chicago. He wore his Air Force uniform-he didn’t have much in the way of formalwear. He hadn’t even wanted to come to the party in the first place-his girlfriend Jenny pushed him into it, saying he didn’t meet enough people. What he thought but didn’t tell Jenny was that the Air Force-not to mention flying in and out of Vietnam-didn’t leave him much time to meet new people. 

But Jenny had gotten tickets to the New Year’s Party at the Hilton from one of her friends at college and told Leo to come with her. Now, Leo was sipping his drink-Scotch-and watching as his girlfriend interacted with some kid she knew from school. He would go to college someday, too-once the Air Force was finished with him. 

Suddenly, Jenny was in front of him. Pulling along the kid she had been talking to, Leo looked him over. He was an awkward-looking guy in his twenties and wore an Air Force cap. 

“Leo, this is Ken O’Neill from my Poli-Sci class. He’s going into the Air Force, too. Ken, this is my boyfriend, Captain Leo McGarry.” 

“Captain,” Ken said, shaking Leo’s hand. “Jenny’s told me about you.” 

“Oh, really?” Leo said wryly. “What about me?” 

“Just that you were in the Air Force, and that you got back from Vietnam earlier this year.” 

“Yeah, I did,” Leo replied. 

“What missions did you fly?” 

“Operation Rolling Thunder.” He answered reluctantly. Sometimes, the flashbacks of what he saw on that mission ate at him. But he shook his head and focused on the young man in front of him-young, unblemished, and full of hope, not having any concept of what would happen to him. 

“They’re shipping me out to ‘Nam later this year,” Ken told him. “So I figured I’d better enjoy the New Year while I can.” 

“Good.” 

Just then, Jenny cut in. “Oh, look, they’re starting the countdown!” The TVs at the corner of the bar were tuned to a live feed of Guy Lombardo’s New Year’s Eve special in Times Square. The flashing ball was about to drop. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!” The crowd shouted together, cheering loud and long as the sounds of “Auld Lang Syne” played through the jukebox. Outside, fireworks burst off Navy Pier in the distance, and cars honked their horns in excited celebration. 

“Happy New Year, Leo!” Jenny cheered, kissing Leo soundly, then turning to kiss Ken on the cheek. 

As Leo hugged Jenny tightly among the confetti being thrown, he couldn’t help but think about the year that lay ahead. There was something he hadn’t told Jenny, something he had known for sure since earlier that day, but in his heart for a long while: the Air Force had notified him that they were shipping him back out to Vietnam in just a few months’ time. But now, he would enjoy the New Year with his girlfriend. After all, there was no telling how many New Year’s Eves he had left. 

… 

_ Brooklyn, NY:  _

In a little townhouse in Brooklyn, the same special was playing on the TV, but no one was paying any attention. 

Thirteen-year-old Tobias Ziegler sat on the couch, writing. Writing was his outlet. He had started with poems, now he had worked up to full-blown short stories. Well, at least he could write if he could concentrate. 

“Toby.  _ Toby.”  _

Toby slammed down his notebook. Ten-year-old David was bouncing on the couch next to him. He laughed and shook his head. His parents never should’ve given this kid permission to stay up this late. He was guzzling down Mountain Dew like nobody’s business.    
  


“Mom and Dad are fighting again.” David told him matter-of-factly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Sure enough, Toby could hear his parents going at it at the top of the stairs. 

“It’s New Year’s Eve. They can’t lay off on the Jewish guilt for one night?” Toby groused. Even for a thirteen-year-old, he was sullen. 

“I want to watch the fireworks.” 

“Then go outside and watch them.” Their home was right outside the Brooklyn Bridge, giving them an ample view of the Manhattan festivities. 

“Mom and Dad say I’m too young to go by myself. Beth’s at that stupid party, Sophie’s talking to her boyfriend, so you have to take me. Please?” 

The pleading look on David’s face was enough to melt even Toby’s gruff exterior. He listened upstairs to his parents fighting, and Sophie on the old-fashioned rotary phone, and looked at his brother again. 

“Okay.” he finally said. He checked his pocket watch-11:57. “Come on, we better get outside, or we’ll miss it.” 

They slipped out on the porch. David and Toby stood out on the porch, waiting breathlessly for the fireworks to begin. Just then, the screen door opened, and Sophie slipped out. 

“What are you doing here?” Toby asked. 

“What? Did you think I wasn’t gonna see the New Year with my brothers?” 

“You mean that?” 

“Yeah, I do.” And then, Toby looked at his pocket watch. 

“Hey, guys. Ten seconds.” 

They began to count down quietly. At exactly the stroke of midnight, fireworks burst into the sky, lighting up in every color imaginable. 

“Happy New Year,” Toby said quietly. 

As he and his sister and brother watched the fireworks, he had only one wish: that the next year of his life-his thirteenth year-would be one to remember. 

… 

_ Dayton, Ohio:  _

It was almost midnight in the Midwest. Talmidge Cregg and his wife Jean were watching the Guy Lombardo program on TV. They had three children: teenage sons Paul and Drew, and three-year-old Claudia Jean. The boys both doted on their little sister, Paul referring to her by her initials. Jean and Tal always said her full name, but she loved hearing her name shortened. It made her feel like one of the boys. 

The door slammed as the champagne-popping time neared. Paul walked in holding papers. Drew was working on his homework at the kitchen table. 

“Waiting until midnight to do your homework?” Paul said, teasingly. 

“I’m just trying to have something to do until midnight.” 

“Because you won’t be able to stay up otherwise?” 

Just then, there was a pitter-patter of little feet on the floor. Paul and Drew turned around to see their little sister standing in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Hey, CJ,” Paul said. “What are you doing up?” 

“I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.” 

“Too excited for what?” Drew asked. 

“The new year!” she squealed, jumping up and down. 

Sweeping her up into his arms, Paul said, “Well, why don’t we go join the Cregg family festivities in the living room and watch the ball drop?” 

At CJ’s excited nod, he carried her into the living room, leaving the Navy enlistment papers on the kitchen table. 

Jean and Tal looked up in surprise at their daughter in their son’s arms. 

“Claudia Jean, what are you doing awake?” Jean asked. 

“I wanna watch the New Year!” she said. 

“Come on, Mom, just let her stay up to watch the ball drop,” Paul told his mom. 

“Paul, I don’t know.” 

“Mom, please?” He begged. He had no clue what was going to happen in the next year because of his enlistment, but he knew that he wanted to give his little sister the world if he could. 

“Please, Mommy?” CJ asked. 

Jean and Tal looked at each other and sighed. Finally, Tal stood up. 

“You can watch until the ball falls down. Then it’s straight back to bed.” 

“Yay!”    
  


Paul smiled and sat on the couch next to his parents, pulling CJ onto his lap as the Times Square countdown began. Drew grabbed a noisemaker and sat on a chair. 

As the countdown continued, Paul looked over at his parents. They didn’t know he wanted to join the Navy. But tonight wasn’t the time to tell them. Tonight was for celebrating the New Year, and whatever came with it. 

The crowd cheered on TV as the small family jumped up and began hugging one another. Paul hugged his sister close, as his parents kissed. 

“Happy New Year,” CJ said in her small voice. 

“Happy New Year, squirt,” Paul said quietly. 

… 

_ Laguna Beach, California:  _

Across the country, all was not happy on the horizon for Emily Seaborn. At the time the clock struck midnight in California, she was on the phone, arguing with her husband. 

“Norm, it’s New Year's Eve! You promised you would be home!” 

“I got caught up in work, Emily. You know how it is. There’ll be other New Year’s. Sam won’t even remember this one.” 

Emily sighed. “No, no, I understand.” The truth was, Emily knew that deep down, this would be the first of many events Norman would miss in Sam’s life. She would just have to make the best of it for him. 

“Good night.” 

“That’s it. Not even a ‘Happy New Year’?” 

There was a pause. “Happy New Year,” he said. Then the phone clicked off. 

Emily sighed, then wandered into the living room, where Auld Lang Syne was playing out of their tiny black and white TV set (the show was on film-delay in California). She walked back further into the house and quietly pushed open the door that housed her young son’s bedroom. Nestled under a comforter bearing his favorite nursery rhymes was three-year-old Samuel Norman Seaborn. 

Emily knelt down next to the bed. Careful not to wake her son, she kissed his forehead. 

“Happy New Year, my sweet boy.” 

… 

_ Westport, Connecticut:  _

“Joshua!” 

Six-year-old Josh’s head snapped up from where he was playing with his Legos, in a valiant effort to try and stay awake until midnight. This was the first year his parents were letting him stay up. 

He ran to his door. “Yes, Mommy?” 

“It’s almost midnight. Would you find your sister, please?” 

“Okay.” He ran down the hall, took a left, and stopped at a door midway down the hall. He could hear the “Ave Maria” playing. Joanie was always listening to that song when she wanted to practice conducting. He knocked on the door. 

“Joanie!” 

The record player stopped, and Joanie yelled out, “What?” She hated to be interrupted when she was practicing. 

“It’s almost midnight!” 

There was silence, and just when Josh was about to give up, the door swung open, and Joanie appeared. 13 years old, she was tall and brunette, with fingers like a concert pianist’s, but she easily broke into a smile. On New Year’s, she was a little kid again. Especially when her little brother could be involved. 

“Well, come on, what are we waiting for?” 

They ran downstairs, where their parents were waiting. Rachel was readying the drinks-apple juice for the kids, and champagne for herself and Noah. Noah was fiddling with the radio, flipping the channels until he could find the Disneyland New Year’s Eve program. 

“Come on, Daddy!” Joanie said. “It’s almost midnight!” 

“Just a moment, Joanie,” Noah said exasperatedly. “Here it is.” 

The show clicked on just as the countdown was beginning. 

“Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!” 

The four of them clinked glasses and kissed one another. 

Then, Joanie ran into the living room, sat down at the piano, and began to play “Auld Lang Syne”. The family gathered around the piano and began to sing, “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind…” 

As they played and sang the traditional New Year’s song, they had no way of knowing that this would be the last New Year’s Eve they would share together. 

… 

The year was 1968. A year of turmoil and change. A pivotal year in American history. And for the men and women who later serve the President of the United States (as well as the future President himself), the year would see big changes: some good, some not so good-and some unspeakable. 


	2. What A Wonderful World (Jed/Abbey)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s the second chapter! This focuses on the top members of the Bartlet Administration-Jed and Abbey. I hope you enjoy, please read and review! 

Chapter 1: What A Wonderful World

_ Jed and Abbey Bartlet  _

_ Islington, London, England  _

_ February:  _

Abbey lit the candles on the dining table, then peeked into the entry hall of their flat at the grandfather clock. 7:00. Jed would be home any minute. After all, he had promised to be home for their Valentine’s Day dinner, their first one as a married couple. She had changed into the new dress she had bought to celebrate Valentine’s Day. She was going to surprise her husband if it killed her. And she did have quite a surprise for him. 

Right on cue, there was a click in the lock, and the door opened. Jed walked in and appeared taken aback by the candlelight dinner-and by the sight of his wife. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” Abbey told him from the table, batting her eyelashes. 

“It is indeed a happy Valentine’s Day.” Jed said, coming up to the table and wrapping his arms around her, kissing her soundly. “Here I thought we were just going to eat dinner and spend the night in front of the fire, but this-this is even better.” 

“Well, we can do that, too.” Abbey replied. “Have a seat, dinner’s almost ready. Unless you want to change first into something more comfortable.” 

“I might just do that.” Jed disappeared into the bedroom, while Abbey took the opportunity to make sure her meal for Jed was ready. She wondered if he would guess right away what she was trying to tell him. 

Jed emerged from the bedroom wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt and jeans. He pulled out his chair and sat down, where Abbey put a plate of food in front of him. She sat down with her own plate. After a quick prayer, they dug in, but Jed just stared at his plate. 

“Do you notice anything special about dinner tonight?” 

“Besides the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day? Not in particular.” 

Abbey’s eyes dropped, and she hid a smile. “Are you sure?” 

“All I see is baby back ribs, baby shrimp, baby corn, and…” It hit him like a lightning bolt. He looked up at Abbey, who was no longer even trying to hide her smile. She nodded emphatically. 

“You...we’re…” Jed could barely get out the words. 

“Guess that thing I said on New Year’s Eve actually came true,” Abbey said. “I went to the doctor, he said I’m about three months along.” 

Jed was still flabbergasted. Finally, he could speak. “You’re pregnant?” 

“Yes.” She grabbed his hands from across the table. “We’re gonna have a baby.” 

Jed stood up and walked over, pulling her up with him. “Oh, Abbey!” he said. With a wild, joyful yelp, he picked her up and swung her around. 

“Jed!” Abbey laughed. She had never seen her husband so excited. When he finally set her down, she looked him in the eyes. “You’re happy about this?” 

“Happy? I’m ecstatic! I’m overjoyed! I’m euphoric!” 

“All right, all right, Mr. 1590 on the SAT.” Abbey replied, her eyes flickering with excitement. “I get the picture.” 

“Are you alright? Have you been sick at all?” Jed asked, suddenly concerned. 

“I’m fine. I’ve hardly been sick at all, which is why I didn’t notice until now.” 

He stared into her eyes, full of love. “I love you so much.” He placed a hand on her still-flat stomach. “And I love this little one so much.” 

“I love you too, Jethro.” Abbey said, kissing him. “Now, why don’t we go finish dinner so we can celebrate properly?” 

… 

_ May:  _

It had been a long three months, and Jed was finishing up his first year in the Master’s program. He would finish up his Master’s in another semester, and then the program dictated that he would get his Ph.D. by the spring of 1971. 

Abbey was typing busily on a typewriter at her new office. In order for Jed to focus on his studies, and to bring in extra income, Abbey had gotten a job as a receptionist at a physician’s office in their neighborhood. It wasn’t the best job she had ever had, but she got by. It was a way she could stay involved in the medical field, especially since her medical school plans had basically fallen apart. 

She had learned from her advisor at Harvard Medical School that she would “most likely” need to reapply once she moved back to the States. Apparently, her first two years of coursework would expire within three years. Abbey had expected as much, but she was still disappointed that she would have to go through the whole process again. 

This wasn’t exactly the dream job, either. Britain had passed employer discrimination laws in the mid-sixties, but that didn’t stop the men she worked for from putting her down at every available opportunity. 

And above all, she missed her family. Letters and phone calls only went so far, and she wished she could have her mother nearby, especially as she was going through her first pregnancy. Life with Jed was wonderful, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t homesick. 

The baby. Abbey rubbed her belly as her son-or daughter-kicked beneath her hand. Even though Jed made no secret of his lack of preference for either gender, Abbey knew he wanted a daughter. Why else would he insist on painting the nursery yellow? 

Then, she was interrupted from her thoughts with a bang. Literally. 

“Mrs. Bartlet!” 

She flinched as her boss, Robert Cook, yelled for her. He was the main culprit of the constant put-downs. She was a grown woman, not a child, not to mention well on her way to becoming a doctor herself. But, as always, she would shove down her hurt feelings if it meant not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he was internally destroying her. 

She stood up. “Yes, Dr. Cook?” 

“What is the meaning of this?” He held out a folder that Abbey had organized for him earlier. 

“It’s the Scott boy’s record, sir.” Abbey said haltingly. “I thought you might have an easier time if I listed his illnesses chronologically instead of-” 

“Young lady. Do not presume to tell me what I will find easier. If you cannot listen to my instructions and do as I say, then you have no business being a secretary. Or a doctor.” 

Suddenly, something in Abbey snapped. Whether it was homesickness, or what was going in America with social justice, or hormones, or a combination of all three, she didn’t know. But she had just about had it. 

She stood up. “I will have you know that I have an undergraduate degree in biology from St. Mary’s University, two years of medical school at Harvard, and have worked in the libraries in both institutions. So I believe I am more than qualified to serve in this capacity and as a doctor. And I don’t know who you think you are, but last time I checked, women had earned the right to equal pay and equal treatment in this country. So, if you don’t like what I’m doing, go ahead, fire me. Oh, wait, unless you don’t want it to come out to your superiors what you’ve been doing. In that case, fine. I quit.” 

Abbey tossed down her pen, put on her coat, and walked out without a second glance at Dr. Cook, whose mouth had opened in shock. 

She had made it to the corner before it hit her what she had done. She had told off a doctor, quit her job, and probably blacklisted herself from getting a job at any doctor’s office within 20 miles. Oh, how was she going to tell Jed? 

… 

She arrived home at 4:30 and began to fix dinner, keenly aware that Jed would be home soon. Sure enough, at 5:15, the door opened and clicked shut. Jed always came home early on days when he didn’t have a late class or didn’t have papers due. 

“Hi, honey!” Abbey greeted him cheerfully, but the words died on her lips as soon as she saw his face. 

“Jed, what’s wrong?” 

“Oh, everything. My partner on this project pulled out, and I’m gonna have to start all over on my thesis research. On top of that, there are riots in the streets every day about Vietnam. I swear-I thought we would get away from all this when we moved to London, but no!” 

Abbey stood quietly, letting him rant. She knew there was no way he would react well to her news if he was already in a bad mood himself. 

Finally, he stopped ranting and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Abbey walked over and started working the knots out of his shoulders. 

“You just had a bad day, that’s all, babe.” She told him gently.

“I know that.” He snapped. Then he looked up, and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, honey. Here I am, complaining, and you haven’t said a word about your day.” 

Abbey shrugged. “It was fine.” 

Jed turned to look at her. “Just ‘fine’?”

She sighed, deciding to bite the bullet. “I finally told off that idiot Dr. Cook, and I quit my job.” 

“Good.” 

“Good? That’s it? You’re not mad?” Abbey was surprised. 

“I’ve known you weren’t happy at that job for weeks. And besides, with my research job over the summer, I’ll make more than enough for an income.” Jed suddenly stood up, leading her into the living room. “Come sit down for a minute.” 

“Jed, we still have to talk about-” 

“Ah-ah. Just listen to me for a minute.” Jed pulled her down into his lap, then kissed her hair as she rested her head on his chest. “You are a feisty, intelligent woman, and I am so lucky that you chose me instead of Ron Ehrlich.” 

At this, Abbey chuckled. “Oh, God! If memory serves me correctly, I only went out with him because I thought you were going to be a priest.” 

“For six months?” 

“It was nine months, and don’t you forget it. Longest nine months of my life while I waited for you to make your decision.” 

“Can I tell you a little secret?” Jed whispered. “My mind was made up the day I first laid eyes on you.” 

Abbey’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Jed...what did I do to deserve you?” 

“I believe the question is what did I do to deserve you, Abigail.” 

They laid there quietly, before Abbey said, “I wish my mom was here.” 

“Abbey,” Jed said, kissing her comfortingly. “I know you do.” He hadn’t planned on telling her this until August was closer, but he figured now was as good a time as any. 

“What would you say if I told you I arranged for your mother to fly out here in the middle of August and stay until after the baby’s born?” 

Abbey gasped. “Really?” 

Jed nodded. 

She shrieked and kissed him soundly. “Oh, I love you! How did you know?” 

“I know you a lot better than you think. You’ve been moping around for a while, and I knew you were probably missing your mom, so this is my surprise gift to you for our anniversary.” 

“Jed, that is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Abbey said, kissing him again. 

“And I know I haven’t been home much lately, but just wait until summer. Then I’ll be home a lot more. The research job has much more flexible hours. And I’ll be right there with you when you have our daughter.” 

“Our daughter? You mean our son.” 

“No, I mean our daughter. And she is going to look just like you.” 

… 

Jed was right. After that May, things slowed down quite a lot. Abbey was able to focus more of her energy on getting ready for the baby, and Jed was home often enough that he was able to help her out. And as promised, in August, Laura Barrington flew out to help her daughter through the last month of her pregnancy. 

And on August 20, 1968, Jed and Abbey’s daughter was born. Jed was right there holding her hand, just as he had promised. Her mom was there, too, but stepped out during the delivery to give them some privacy. All through her excruciating 12 hours of labor, Jed never left her side. And when she gave the last push, shortly before 5:00, Jed looked as his new daughter entered the world, ready to love her with all his heart. 

When it was all over, and Abbey put her in his arms, she watched, moved, as Jed looked at baby Elizabeth aglow with love and excitement. 

“Hello, Elizabeth Ann.” he said. “Welcome to the world.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And there’s the Jed/Abbey chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Next up-Leo’s experiences as he ships out to Vietnam for the second time. Please let me know what you thought. 


	3. Brothers In Arms (Leo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one’s a heavier chapter-Leo’s experiences when shipped out to Vietnam. I’m borrowing heavily from two episodes of the show that discussed Leo’s military background, War Crimes and An Khe. I hope you enjoy, please read and review! 

Chapter 2: Brothers in Arms (March-September 1968) 

_ Major Leo McGarry, USAF _

_ Takhli Royal Thai Air Force Base _

_ Bangkok, Thailand (two hours from Vietnam)  _

… 

Leo McGarry loved flying, but he hated war. 

He had used flying as a way of coping with a difficult childhood. The eldest of three children growing up in central Chicago, his father was your average Boston Irish Catholic-an alcoholic, too. Joe McGarry was a tough man, prone to a bad temper and frequent drinking binges-a habit that began after his stint in the Army during World War II. Scarcely a night went by where the impact of these binges wasn’t felt in the McGarry house-physically or emotionally. 

His mother Millie tried her hardest, rearing Leo and his sisters Elizabeth and Josie with love and support, but for reasons known only to her, lacked the courage to leave her husband. So, Leo began to learn to live with it. That was when he learned to make model airplanes. 

It started as a spread in a magazine about pilots. The magazine included a page where kids could cut out their own models, and soon Leo had graduated to more sophisticated models. As he hung each completed plane from his ceiling, he dreamed of learning to fly the planes himself-of getting into a plane and flying far away from his problems. But a family tragedy soon brought him crashing down to earth. 

As he would relate matter-of-factly to a White House intern over forty years later, 10-year-old Leo was woken at 11:00 on a cool fall night in 1958. After checking to make sure his sisters (then 7 and 5) were still asleep, he went to the top of the stairs to listen. 

It was a blistering argument-not unlike one he had heard between his parents before, but this one would end tragically different. After his father Joe (he presumed) slammed the door, he was about to go back to bed when he heard it. 

A single gunshot. And he heard the door to the garage open, and he heard Millie’s anguished screams, and he knew. His father was dead by his own hand. 

The days following his father’s death were some of the hardest of young Leo’s life. And it was compounded by the fact that his mother told everyone her husband’s death was accidental. Leo-and as it turned out, everyone in town-knew the truth. Millie never really got over Joe’s death, and though she tried hard to normalize life for Leo and his sisters, home was never the same. It was then that Leo resolved that the second he was old enough, he would go into the Air Force and fly planes, just like he always wanted to do. 

Leo-now Major Leo McGarry of the United States Air Force-stood at an Air Force base in Thailand, awaiting his flyout orders. He was shifting through his mail when, suddenly, he heard a familiar voice. 

“Leo McGarry? Is that you?” 

He turned around to find a young man walking towards him. He looked familiar, but Leo could not quite place him. 

“Y-yes. Have we met?” 

At this, the young man smiled. “Ken O’Neill. We met at the Burwood Tap, New Year's Eve? I’m in your girlfriend’s Poli-Sci class.” 

At this, the lightbulb went off in Leo’s brain. He shook Ken’s hand. “I remember now. Good to see you again. Enjoy your New Year’s?” 

“Yes, sir. I just got out of flight training, and they shipped me over here. What’s your unit?” 

“355th Tactical Fighter Wing.” 

“Same here,” Leo said. 

“So, how’s Jenny?” Ken asked out of curiosity. While he enjoyed his time with the young woman as a friend, he always respected the fact that she was with someone else and never tried to push it any further. 

“She’s fine. We’re engaged.” Leo smiled shyly at this admission. Most of his buddies didn’t know that he had asked her to marry him just before shipping out. 

“Leo! That’s fantastic!” Ken said, clapping a hand on his back. “Congratulations!” 

“Yeah, Jenny said if she was going to lose me to the jungles again, I could at least give her a tangible reminder that I’m always with her.” 

“How’d you two meet anyway?” 

“We were high school sweethearts, you know the story. We would have gotten married right out of high school, but her parents wanted her to go to college.” Leo smiled softly, thinking about the woman back home waiting for him. He turned back to Ken. “What about you? Anyone special?” 

“I’ve had a few girlfriends. Nothing serious, though. Certainly no one serious enough to hang on for however long we’re over here.” 

“What do you want to do with your life? After the military, I mean?” 

“Maybe law. My old man’s a lawyer, so it’s…” 

“Ain’t nothing but a family thing.” 

“Right.” Just then, they heard a voice. “Major McGarry!” 

“Yes, sir.” Leo responded, standing to attention immediately. 

“Flight orders!” The clerk said, handing them to Leo. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Leo replied. He turned to Ken. “Well, looks like I’ll be flying over North Vietnam. Hanoi, An Khe.” 

“Well, for someone who’s already done Operation Rolling Thunder, this should be a breeze.” Ken casually remarked. 

Leo wanted to hit him for his flippant remark. He had no idea how bad they had it out there. So many of Leo’s co-pilots had been shot down over Vietnam in ‘66 that it was sometimes hard to keep track. Didn’t he know that? If things were as bad as they were during Rolling Thunder, then the situation in the capital city would be ten times worse. 

But then, Leo took a deep breath. Ken was still new to this whole war situation. Still innocent. Who was he to take away that innocence? 

“It’ll go as well as it goes, I guess.” Leo finally said. 

Thankfully, Ken seemed to understand. “Say hi to Jenny for me when you write to her next, will you?” 

“I will.” 

“And Leo?” 

Leo turned around. 

“Watch your back out there.” 

“Yeah.” And with that, Leo started walking out to his plane, ready to do a maintenance check before commencing his first bombing mission. 

… 

_ September:  _

The last six months had been brutal for the men of the 355th Tactical Fighter Wing. They had lost 100 men, shot down over North Vietnam by enemy fire. However, they had had several successes in shooting down their enemies and enemy targets. 

Leo had kept in contact with Jenny, of course. Through letters, they planned their wedding for when Leo returned to Chicago, likely sometime early the next year. He also wrote to his sisters, both teenagers. Elizabeth, who he called Ellie when she was younger, but now preferred her more sophisticated-sounding full name, was 17, and his sister Josie was 15. His mother had not spoken to him since he told her he was going to Vietnam. It was a sad destruction of a relationship that Leo knew in his heart had never been the same since the day his father shot himself. 

However, even though his home life was in shambles, Leo knew he had one close ally in his unit: Captain Ken O’Neill. Ken was only a year younger than Leo, and they had gotten off to a rough start, but Ken had grown to be a close compatriot who was now serving as his co-pilot. 

Leo was reflecting on all of this as he headed into the camps set up near the Royal Air Force Base in Thailand. He was also cognizant of the fact that he was turning 20 later that week. 

_ Imagine that,  _ he thought.  _ Twenty years old, and I already feel like I’ve lived a lifetime.  _

He “knocked” on the tent covering and peeked inside to find Ken writing out a letter. 

“Writing home, are you?” 

Ken nodded. “My mother. Have you written to Jenny lately?” 

“Some.” And it was true. They had written back and forth concerning their wedding and now planned on getting married on Valentine’s Day. He glanced at the papers in his hands, eager to get back on a topic that didn’t involve his turbulent personal life. “We have a new mission. An Khe.” 

“Isn’t that off-limits?” 

“Not anymore it’s not. Johnson’s about to pull our troops out and cancel Rolling Thunder, but HQ wants us to make a final drop.” 

With that, Ken stood up and began to put on his flight gear. “When do we leave?” 

“Tonight. Right now.” 

“Let’s go.” 

The pair approached their planes, and just before they got in and suited up, Ken said to Leo, “Watch your back.” It was a common phrase among soldiers and one that the two used frequently with each other. 

“Let’s eat ‘em up.” Leo replied, and they roared off into the night sky. 

… 

Three hours into the mission, they were flying over their target when radio transmissions began to suggest that something was going horribly wrong. 

“Tango Outlaw 1-6, Raven One approaching An Khe.” Ken radioed. 

“Roger One. Operation is in heavy contact at Bravo Romeo 945374. They need  FAC ASAP. Fox Mike 45.8.” Leo said back. 

“Coming up on your wing, lead. You drawing targets?” 

“Roger, two. First drop's just beyond the tree line.” 

“I've got it.” 

“Keep up your speed. Don't stop.” 

Suddenly, the instrumental panel started beeping in Leo’s plane. He could hear over the radio that Ken’s was beeping, too.

“They just salvoed,” Leo announced. “Locked on target.” 

“Raven two locked on target,” Ken said, just as two North Vietnamese fighter jets came barreling into their jets. “We've been hit!” 

“Fire light's on. Can you see, two?” Leo asked. 

“Clear off the wing. You've got two tanks near the fire.” 

“We've lost hydraulics.” 

“Just then, both men ejected from their planes, their parachutes bursting open and both landed hard on the cold ground. 

Leo was a bit disoriented from the sudden force of the jump, but he knew his leg was broken. He heard a hushed voice. “Leo? Leo, you all right?” It was Ken, who appeared to be shaken, but unharmed. 

“I think my leg is broken,” Leo replied, grimacing. “You gotta go on without me.” 

Ken shook his head. “No way.” He went behind Leo and began to drag him from behind. Leo was in excruciating pain, but he didn’t dare complain. Soldiers didn’t complain. 

Once sequestered in a safe spot away from the soldiers, Ken began to dress Leo’s wound. It was an open fracture, and Ken knew that sooner rather than later, Leo would need a medic. But they had to get to where someone would see them first. They were in enemy territory, where no one would even think to look for them. 

Leo fought the urge to scream in pain as Ken poured water into the wound to clean it out. 

“I think it's broken.” Leo told him again. “You got to go. I'll be okay.”

“We bailed pretty close to Rest Camp. We'll head out that way.” Ken told him, preparing to dress the open wound. 

“It's a couple of miles. You can't be dragging me all over the jungle.” Leo told him. 

Ken tied a bandage around Leo's wound, paying no mind to Leo’s arguing. He was determined to get him to medical help. 

“You'll never make it with me along.” Leo insisted argumentatively. He wasn’t going to be responsible for the shooting death of another one of his comrades. Not if he could help it. 

“You're not so heavy, old man.” Ken said simply. 

“Please. You gotta go.” Leo practically begged his friend. 

“I'm not leaving you, Leo, so forget it. Come on.” Ken’s voice was firm. 

And then, Ken did something others would describe as heroic. To him, it was just what he needed to do. He picked Leo up and began to carry him through enemy territory. 

For three days, they wandered the jungle, ducking behind trees to avoid being detected by the Vietnamese. 

At some point during the walk, Leo asked Ken, “Why are you doing this? We barely know each other. I met you for the first time nine months ago at a bar on New Years'.” 

“Because you’ve got a girl at home.” 

Leo scoffed. “You’re not doing this for Jenny. I’m calling your bluff on that.” 

Ken sighed. “I’m doing it for you, don’t you get it? This is what you do for a friend.” 

“Carry them through the Vietnamese jungle for three days?” 

“Leo...you’re not just my friend anymore. You’re my brother.” 

Leo sat and thought about that. His brother in arms. He had never had anything close to a brother. And now, fate had pushed him together with Ken O’Neill, the closest thing he had to a friend and a brother in this godforsaken jungle. 

“Brothers in arms.” he muttered. He said it so quietly that Ken had to strain to hear. 

“Yeah, Leo.” Ken said, picking him back up. “Brothers in arms.” 

Three hours after that conversation, the men looked up at the sound of a helicopter. Ken could see that Leo was glassy-eyed, and that rescue had come just in time. 

“Leo.” Ken whispered. Leo opened up his eyes slightly and looked at his comrade. “Leo, come on, they’re here. We’re going home.” 

Delirious from blood loss, all Leo could do was blink, but inside he was ecstatic. Finally, his nightmare was over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that’s Leo’s story! Next up, we’ll explore Toby’s early teen years growing up in Brooklyn. I hope you liked this chapter, please let me know what you thought! 


	4. Coney Island Baby (March-April 1968)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s the next chapter! It covers 13-year-old Toby’s life growing up in Brooklyn. Hope you enjoy, please read and review! 

Chapter 3: Coney Island Baby (March-April 1968) 

_ Toby Ziegler _

_ Brooklyn, New York  _

There was a day that Toby hated more than any day of the week, and yet he felt drawn to it every time it came around: Friday into Saturday-the Sabbath. 

Friday evenings after the sun went down were nice. His mother Rebecca would light the candles, and then Rebecca and 15-year-old Sophie would each take a turn reciting the blessings. Shabbat was such a special time of the week that sometimes it was easy to notice that Julie Ziegler-Toby’s father-hadn’t been home in time for a Shabbat dinner in months. 

If Toby was aware of his parents’ splintering marriage, he was almost certainly aware of it during the spring after he turned thirteen-the most stressful period of his life. 

After Friday-his favorite part of the week-came Hebrew school, his least favorite part of the week. Otherwise known as him feeling humiliated in front of his peers as he stumbled through the Hebrew phrases from the Torah he would need to know for that sacred and treasured rite of passage: his Bar Mitzvah. 

Toby sat in class one particular Saturday in March, just one month before his Bar Mitzvah. He was seated in front of the rabbi teaching the class, his eyes trained on his book. 

“The Lord called to Moses and spoke to him from the tent of meeting. He said, “Speak to the Israelites and say to them: ‘When anyone among you brings an offering to the Lord, bring as your offering an animal from either the herd or the flock.’” He read in shaky Hebrew. “ ‘If the offering is a burnt offering from the herd, you are to offer a male without defect. You must present it at the entrance to the tent of meeting so that it will be acceptable to the Lord.” 

The rabbi nodded once. “Your reading is much improved,  _ Tobiah.”  _ Toby flinched at the use of his Hebrew name: eight years and it still sounded unnatural. Looking up at the clock, the rabbi called out, “That’s all for today.  _ Shalom.”  _

Twenty minutes later, Toby and his brother David were walking into the corner store for malted drinks and comic books. It was their Saturday tradition after Hebrew school. Mr. Klein, the proprietor, was standing at the counter. “Mrs. Robinson” was playing on the radio. 

“Good afternoon, boys.” The older Jewish man greeted kindly. “Your usual?” 

“Yes, please,” Toby said. 

“Do you have any new comic books?” David asked. 

“You’re in luck. I just got a new shipment today.” 

David ran over to the rack and whooped in delight. “Yippee,  _ Green Lantern!  _ Look, Toby!” 

“I see.” Toby said, noticeably less excited. He had somewhat outgrown comic books, preferring the newest issue of  _ Rolling Stone.  _ They grabbed their magazines and comic books and sat down at the counter, and Mr. Klein handed them their drinks. 

“Thank you.” Both of them said. As they drank their sodas, the song on the radio changed to “With A Little Help From My Friends”. David sang along, “ _ What would you think if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me…”  _

“Toby.” Mr. Klein asked, getting the young teenager’s attention. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Tell your mother that the butcher shop three blocks down has a great deal on lamb for Passover.” 

“I will.” 

“Are you ready for your Bar Mitzvah? That’s coming up, isn’t it?” 

Toby felt mildly irritated. Could one day go by without the adults in his life asking him about his Bar Mitzvah? As if he wasn’t already stressed enough. But he held those feelings inside, and instead answered politely. “Yes, I think so.” 

The two brothers walked home ten minutes later, arriving at what was by then a familiar sound: their parents arguing. 

David asked, “What are they arguing about this time?” 

“Who knows?” Their older sister Sophie replied, coming in from the living room. “Money, careers, Toby’s Bar Mitzvah…” 

“What about my Bar Mitzvah?” 

“Dad doesn’t think he can pay for it. Mom says if he had a normal job, he might be able to.” 

Toby took a breath. He knew his family’s history, but he didn’t know it was going to come down on him. 

Julie Ziegler had had numerous run-ins with the law and had spent some time in jail for it. He had spent about five years in prison after being convicted of robbery, beginning when Toby was 4. Beth, his eldest sister, had been 9, Sophie had been 6, and David had only been a year old. When Julie was released from jail, when Toby was 9, Toby knew that the experience had forever changed his father. As a felon, he could no longer go back to the life he had once known. He worked in a dead-end factory job, and Rebecca also had to work at the neighborhood grocery to make ends meet. 

It would not be until many years later that Toby learned the true name of the organization where Julie worked when he was younger-Murder. Inc. 

His parents’ raised voices-Julie’s loud, thickly-accented one and his mother’s soft-spoken, faintly-accented one-carried downstairs. Toby could hear Yiddish vocabulary tumbled into their harsh words. 

Sophie looked at the boys apologetically and gestured behind her. “Come on, you can help me and Beth make dinner.” Toby and David followed Sophie into the kitchen, where Beth was already rolling out the dough for the  _ challah  _ bread. Toby reached for a bit, and Beth slapped his hands away. 

“Don’t you go eating that!” She said. “That’s supposed to be for dinner!” 

Toby put up his hands in self-defense. “Can I help, or should I just go upstairs?” 

Beth thought for a moment, then nodded to the pot on the stove. “Can you stir the minestrone?” 

“Sure.” Toby went to the stove and began to stir, while behind him he heard Sophie instruct David to set the table. Behind them, they heard the door slam and the family’s 1948 Chevy Sedan start up and drive away. 

They all looked at one another and shrugged. Just then, Rebecca Ziegler came in. An apron was on over her floral dress, and her eyes were red and puffy. 

“Good,” she said simply. “You’ve started dinner.” 

She walked further into the kitchen and started working with Beth on the bread. 

“Is...everything OK, Ma?” Toby asked her. 

Rebecca’s head snapped up. A look of embarrassment and distress crossed her face. But she shook it off. “Everything’s fine.” she said almost too convincingly. “How was Hebrew school?” 

“It was fine.” Toby shrugged off the question. 

Luckily, Rebecca didn’t press him. She simply continued working as the family continued to drift into an uncomfortable silence. 

… 

It was the week before Passover when the unthinkable happened. The family was watching  _ That Girl  _ on CBS when a “Special Report” came onto the TV, interrupting the broadcast. Dan Rather appeared on screen, ashen-faced. Rebecca laid down her knitting, and Julie lowered his newspaper. 

“This is Dan Rather for CBS News. The Reverend Martin Luther King Jr was shot dead this evening as he stood on a hotel balcony in Memphis, Tennessee.” 

The girls and Rebecca gasped. Julie’s face was unreadable. And Toby immediately felt upset and angry. 

The Ziegler family had admired Dr. King and his work for civil rights. Toby remembered sitting in front of the TV when he was nine, listening to the famous “I Have A Dream” speech. Though his work was intended towards integrating whites and African-Americans, it wasn’t hard to see how the same words could be applied to the Jewish community. 

Toby, not wanting to hear anymore as Dan Rather continued to drone on about the details of the shooting, ran upstairs and straight into his bedroom. For the first time since he was a little boy, he cried. 

He cried for Dr. King, for all the people who loved him, and for how the world was never going to be the same after tonight. 

There was a knock on his door, and Sophie entered. “Ma sent me to come check up on you.” she said gently. “Are you OK?” 

Toby started to nod, then he shook his head. “It’s just not fair, Soph!” 

“I know, Toby.” Sophie wrapped him up in a hug. “A lot of things in life aren’t fair, but this...this is just a whole new level of bad.” 

The next day, the three older kids attended a public memorial in Central Park for Dr. King. Toby stood between his sisters. He had been sheltered by them through the streets as all around them, African-Americans had broken into riots. Toby didn’t understand the violence: was it to get vengeance for Dr. King’s death? Understanding? 

He turned to Beth. “Beth, why are people rioting? I thought you weren’t supposed to respond to violence with violence. That’s what the Torah says. And it’s not what Dr. King said.” He was sure that if Martin Luther King could see what was happening right now in New York and Chicago, he would not be very happy. 

“Not everyone’s Jewish, kiddo. And not everybody’s like Dr. King.” Beth replied. “Those people out there feel angry. And they need to express that anger. But we’re doing what Dr. King would have wanted. Celebrating his life, not avenging his death.” 

The crowd began to sing “We Shall Overcome”, an old spiritual that had taken on a life of its own during the Civil Rights Movement. Toby sang the words along with everyone else, feeling a certain pride in his city. 

… 

Two weeks later, it was after Passover. Toby’s Bar Mitzvah would be that weekend, and he was spending all his spare time studying. He wanted to get the Hebrew texts just right. 

He was distracted, however, by the sight of his sisters dressed to go out, trying to sneak out. He walked out of the kitchen and caught them in the hall. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out to the movies,” Sophie said too quickly. 

Toby could see right through them. “Which one?” 

“Umm.... _ 2001?”  _

“You don’t want to see  _ 2001\.  _ Now, where are you going?” 

Finally, Sophie relented. “We’re going to a Vietnam War protest.” 

“A protest?” 

“Against the draft,” Beth explained. 

“Can I come?” 

“No,” Beth replied. “It’s gonna be dangerous.” 

“Please?” Toby begged. “I’ll be careful.” Ever since Dr. King died, he wanted to get involved in social justice. Maybe this was his ticket in. 

“Beth, just let him come.” Sophie urged her. 

Finally, Beth sighed. “Okay. You can come, but you have to stay right by us, understand?” 

“I understand.” Toby said calmly. Inside, he was leaping for joy. His first protest. Now he could truly say he was a man. 

The protest was held at New York University. Toby stayed between his sisters and watched the protesters-mostly people Beth’s age-holding signs and marching. No one was being particularly violent-or non-violent. 

Suddenly, Toby was shoved to the ground. 

“Toby!” Sophie yelled. The noise was deafening. Police sirens screamed up near him. 

“NYPD!” They yelled. “All right, break it up!” 

Suddenly, the protesters began to fight back. And then…

BOOM! 

Toby looked on, stunned, as the police-the people who were supposed to protect-fired gunshots and tear gas into the crowd. As chaos evolved, Beth’s voice came close to his ear. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

The three ran down the street, where they got onto the subway and headed home. 

It would not be Toby’s last encounter with violence, but he would never forget his first. 

… 

That Saturday, Toby stood at the pulpit and chanted that week’s portion of the Torah and the blessings. His mother, sisters, and brother watched with tears in their eyes. His father was not present-his parents had announced earlier in the week that they were splitting up. 

Toby read on, the Hebrew phrases pouring off his tongue. When he was finished, he looked up proudly. 

It had been a long spring, but Toby Ziegler was now a man. 


	5. California Dreaming (May)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And now we get into the lives of the Senior Staff who weren’t as old this year-starting with Sam. A note-I’m making him born in 1964, same as Rob Lowe. This is set about five years before the decades-long affair uncovered in “SGTE, SGTJ” would have begun. I hope you enjoy, please read and review! 

Chapter 4: California Dreaming (May 1968) 

It was a warm weekend in May at Laguna Beach. Waves crashed against the shoreline. Teens were everywhere-surfing, fiddling with transistor radios, suntanning. Four and five-year-olds were running up and down the shoreline, looking for the best seashells and seeing who could make the biggest sandcastles and dunes. One of those kids was four-year-old Sam Seaborn. 

“And GI Joe is driving through the dunes in his truck, about to be saved by...Superman!” Sam declared, waving his action figures in the air and making the Matchbox cars in the sand crash into one another. He was surprisingly well-spoken for a four-year-old, speaking without the notable lisps of other kids his age, as well as in sentences. “Score one for Superman!” 

“Sam!” He heard a voice call to him. He scrambled upward with the cars in his hand, seeing his mother approach. 

Emily Seaborn was a dazzling young woman in her early thirties. Once a teacher, she had been teaching kindergarteners in the early sixties when she met Norman, a friend of a friend that swept her completely off her feet. Now, five years later, her career had come to a standstill and her marriage had hit an impasse, but the one constant in her life was her little boy. 

“What are you building?” She asked Sam, crouching down in the sand next to him. 

“Sand dunes. Superman beat GI Joe! And I helped!” 

“Oh?” Emily said, laughing aloud. “Well, my little superhero, what do you say we go home and get some sandwiches for lunch? How does that sound?” 

“Tuna melts?” Sam asked hopefully. 

“Anything you want,” Emily replied. “Now, why don’t you help me pick up your toys?” 

“Okay, Mommy!” Sam dutifully began picking up the action figures while Emily took his cars. After putting them away in the beach bag, Emily swept Sam up into her arms and settled him against her hip, walking up the boardwalk to their car. 

After they arrived home, Sam happily sat at the kitchen table, eating his favorite lunch: tuna melts, Pringles, and Ovaltine. He looked at the newspaper on the table, where his father Norman had left it after a hurried breakfast. There were big block shapes on the top that he could see. He just didn’t know what they meant. 

“Mommy?” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“What are these big black shapes in the newspaper?” 

Emily was confused enough by her son’s question that she came over to see what he was talking about. When she saw what Sam was pointing to, she relaxed. “Those are letters, Sam.” 

“Letters?” 

“You know, like the alphabet?” 

“You mean, A, B, C, D…” Sam kept going as he listed the letters of the alphabet. He knew them: he had learned the simple song months earlier from his friends in nursery school. 

“Yes, that’s right,” Emily told him. “Would you like to learn how to read the alphabet?” 

Sam nodded energetically, eager to learn. He had always been that way. 

From the time Sam could talk, he would ask questions. He would ask questions of his mother, his father, his grandmother. Everyone in his life, luckily, was eager to foster the young boy’s love of learning. And Emily, the former teacher, was all too happy to oblige now. 

“All right, then. Mommy will be right back.” Emily went into her bedroom and pulled out a Dr. Seuss ABC book she had used in part to teach her own kindergarten class. She came back to the kitchen and sat down with her eager son and opened to the first page. “Do you know what this letter is?” 

Sam shook his head. “No.” 

“This is the letter A. A is for alligator.” 

“What’s an alligator?” 

Emily laughed. “An alligator is an animal that lives in Florida.” 

“Florida?” Sam asked, confused. 

“It’s the big state at the very bottom of the country,” Emily explained patiently. “Now, would you like to learn how to write the letter A?” At his nod, she took his hand and held a pencil in both their hands as she wrote the letter: “It’s like this. Two lines are sloping down, one on each side, and a line right around the middle…” 

… 

Over the next few days, whenever Emily had a spare moment alone with her son, she would teach him a few more letters. By Friday evening, when Norman came home from work, Sam was laying on the floor in front of the fireplace, drawing the letters he had learned and sounding them out, while Emily knitted on the couch. 

Sam looked up as Norman, and his face lit up. “Daddy!” 

Norman caught Sam as he launched himself onto his legs. “Hey, pal.” Despite Norman’s workload, he always made time for his son; his wife, not so much. 

The truth of their marital problems had begun nearly a year earlier when they decided to start trying for a second child. But nature wasn’t cooperating. While they remained committed to their marriage, it seemed it was only for the sake of their son. 

“Look what I can do!” Sam held the paper in front of his face and read seriously, “A...B...C! Those are the first three letters of the alphabet. And I can read more, too! Mommy’s teaching me words!” 

“She is, huh?” Norman asked, humoring his son while making eye contact with his wife, who nodded. 

“He’s very smart. Picked up the alphabet very fast. He’ll be reading before long.” Emily said, ruffling her son’s hair fondly. 

“Well, now,” Norman says, impressed. “I think this calls for a celebration. How about...peppermint ice cream after dinner and some time on the boat this weekend?” 

At this, Sam lets out an excited squeal. “The boat!” He loved weekends on his father’s sloop sailboat even more than days spent on the beach with his mother. 

“All right, you little sailor.” Emily cut in. “Let’s go eat dinner, and you can tell your dad all about what we practiced today.” 

That night, Emily started to read aloud from one of Sam’s favorite stories, “The Cat in the Hat”, when she felt a tug on her shirt. 

“Yes?” she asked Sam, who was sitting up in bed clutching his beloved stuffed bear, whom he had christened Ringo almost as soon as he could talk. Emily was 99% certain the name came from one too many Beatles albums lying around the house. 

“Can I try to read?” 

“Well, I don’t know. You only just started learning your letters.” Emily was trying to protect Sam from what she was sure would be his inevitable frustration towards not being able to read the words. 

However, even she didn’t know the brimming pail of confidence that was her son. And that he was capable of so much more than she ever expected. 

“Please, Mommy?” he begged. 

Something in his eager expression made Emily relent. “All right.” She scooted up closer to Sam and handed him the book. “Let’s try to sound out each word one at a time, okay?” 

Without hesitation, Sam jumped in. “‘Look at me! Look at me now!’ said the Cat. “With a...cu-u-p-cup and a c-c…” 

“It’s okay. The ‘e’ is silent, so it’s a bit confusing. What letter is this?” She said, pointing to the ‘a’. 

“A!” Sam said triumphantly, pleased to know something. 

“That’s right. And what sound does the letter A make?” 

“Ah, and aah.” 

“And?” Emily prompted. She was astonished at the little amount of effort it had taken Sam to get this far, and she wasn’t about to let him stop now. 

“Ayy.” he said, drawing out the long “a” sound. 

“Very good, sweetheart! Now let’s put those all together.” 

“C-Cay-K. Cake!” Sam said. Now that that roadblock was out of the way, he continued sounding out the words, needing only minimal assistance. When he finished the page, he smiled up at his mother. “How’d I do, Mommy?” 

Emily blinked back the tears of pride that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “You read that all by yourself! I’m so proud of you!” She pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “You’re getting to be such a big boy!” 

Sam beamed at the praise. He loved making his parents happy. 

“Shall we keep reading?” Emily asked. Sam nodded quickly, and he continued to astonish Emily with how much he had gleaned in just a few short days. 

The next day, the family packed up the car and picnic basket and headed to the pier, ready to spend the day on the sailboat. The name was painted along the side, and Sam stopped to look at it, pushing his miniature Dodgers hat out of his eyes. His father had once told him that he had named the boat after an old town in England where he had spent some time after college graduation. His friend from college had suggested a female name close to it since sailboats were usually named after females. Sam could see it started with an A. 

“Aay-in-slee.” Sam read out. “Ainsley?” 

“Very good, kiddo,” Norman said, ruffling his hair. 

“That’s a funny name.” 

“It’s a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty town. And maybe somewhere a pretty girl has that name, too.” 

Sam shrugged his shoulders, accepting this explanation. “Okay.” 

As they sailed that afternoon, Sam worked on writing out his letters, while his mother read. 

“Mommy?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I have a question.” 

“Yes?” 

“When am I going to get a baby brother or a baby sister?” 

Emily froze. Her son’s seemingly innocent question had opened up a floodgate of emotions that she was not prepared for. She began to cry-sob, really-quietly. 

Sam, realizing his mom was quiet, turned around to see her crying. “Mommy, why are you crying?” He got up and ran to her. 

Emily desperately tried to dry her tears. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetie. Mommy’s just feeling a little sad right now.” Honestly, she didn’t know what she felt sadder about her lack of success in conceiving a second child or her distant marriage. 

“Here, Mommy.” Sam held out Ringo the Bear. 

Despite her sadness, Emily had to laugh. “You want to give me Ringo?” 

Sam shrugged. “He always makes me feel better when I’m sad.” 

She smiled, taking the bear delicately from her son. “Thank you, Sam. I’m sure he’ll make me feel better.” She was secretly glad that Sam had apparently forgotten his original question in his quest to cheer up his mom. 

He climbed up onto the chair, the sailboat gliding peacefully down the bay, and hugged his mother. “Don’t cry, Mommy. It’ll be OK.” 

Emily smiled, hugging him close. “I sure love you,” she said, kissing his hair. 

“Love you too, Mommy,” Sam replied happily. “You wanna see what I can do?” 

“Sure,” Emily replied, eager for the distraction. 

Sam ran on his little legs toward the table. He grabbed a piece of paper and ran it over to his mom, thrusting in her face. “I can write!” 

Sure enough, Sam had written several words-from memory-from The Cat In the Hat, including “cake”, the word that had given him trouble the previous night. 

Emily was shocked. “Sam! Where did you learn to write like this?” 

“You taught me, Mommy,” Sam answered sweetly. 

His mother looked at him. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that even if a second child never came, she would be blessed to have Sam in her life for a long time to come. 

… 

By the time May had passed into June, all three Seaborns had done some growing up. Norman and Emily had begun to talk out their problems, realizing that maybe a second child was not in the cards for them. Emily decided to go back to work as Sam would start preschool in the fall. Norman’s work habits didn’t change, but he always had time for his son. They couldn’t have known it then, but within a few years, he was starting to feel lonely inside in his marriage, since his wife now poured all his time into Sam and her “new” career as a schoolteacher. Lonely enough to make regular visits to a bar in Santa Monica…

But back in 1968, Sam’s reading and writing were getting better too. In fact, he wrote a poem about his dad’s boat. But what caught Emily’s attention was the title of the poem. 

“Ainsley.” She read out loud. “Sam, how did you know how to spell this?” 

He shrugged. “I just did. I like that name. Daddy says it’s pretty.” 

“It is pretty.” 

“Mommy?” 

“Yes?” 

“I wanna be a writer one day.” 

Emily smiled. “I think you can be whatever you want to be, Sam. Even the President of the United States.” 

“Nah. I’d rather be a writer.” 

Sam didn’t know it then, but eventually, both of his mother’s predictions would come true. 

And he had no way of knowing this, either, but on that day across the country, a baby girl who would be destined to change his life forever was born. Her parents, Southern but British in descent, decided to name her after the village where their ancestors lived. 

Her name would be Ainsley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you liked this chapter-and the Ainsley twist! Next up, we get a glimpse into the life of a certain Press Secretary. Please let me know what you thought! 


	6. Those Were The Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s the next chapter-CJ! I hope you enjoy, please read and review! 

Chapter 5: Those Were the Days (June-November) 

The building of Interstate 75 lent a helping hand to the growing suburbia population of Dayton, Ohio. Many people emigrated to the city post-World War II, ready to start a new life outside the city. 

As far as three-year-old Claudia Jean Cregg could see, there were only the little houses on Germantown Way, where she lived with her father Tal, her mother Jean, and her brothers Paul and Drew. The street turned a corner onto the main intersection of the neighborhood, but she didn't know what lay beyond it. Even in the car, she was too short to see the sights as they passed by. 

Even now, she sat on her front porch, eating a Popsicle, swinging her legs as she watched the kids on her street skate and play jump rope on the sidewalk in front of her house. She could see her brother Drew working on his car in the driveway. Later, she would learn the correct name of it was a Ferrari Daytona, but to CJ, it was just a big yellow car. She hopped off the step, her Popsicle finished, and ran over to the car. Drew had his head bent way under the hood, listening to the Rolling Stones on the radio, and he didn’t notice or acknowledge CJ. She put her hands over her ears to block out the constant shrill tone of the motor and poked at her brother’s leg. “Drew?” she yelled over the motor. 

Drew pulled his head out, looking around wildly at the source of the disturbance. He turned around, looking down and jumping at the sight of his little sister. 

“God, CJ, you scared me.” 

“Mommy says we shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” The only person in the neighborhood more Catholic than Jean Cregg was the priest at their neighborhood parish, St. Peter’s. 

“Well, Mom’s not here right now, is she?” Drew shot back. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Working on my car.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” 

“Well, if I knew, I would’ve fixed it by now.” Drew looked down at his sister, so precocious and so eager. “Do you wanna help me?” 

CJ nodded eagerly and Drew hoisted her up so she could see underneath the hood. “See, I’m trying to check to see if the motor is leaking oil, ‘cause if it is, then that would explain why my car was making funny noises all the way home from the drive-in last night.” 

“What happens if it’s leaking?” 

“Then, I have to change out the oil.” 

“Do you know how?” 

“Yeah, I learned in shop class.” Drew smiled at her inquisitiveness. From the time she could walk, he and his older brother Paul had been including her in things, never making her feel any different than them. Their mother still tried to protect her and tried to make her more feminine, but it was clear that CJ felt more in kin with her brothers. 

Paul had been 14 and Drew had been 12 when CJ was born. Drew vividly remembered going with Paul to pick flowers, and presenting to his mother and baby sister in the hospital. He had held her that day and was enamored when she grabbed onto his finger. She had been a surprise, but much-welcomed, addition to the Cregg household. 

Suddenly, the song on the radio caught CJ’s attention. “It’s the la-la song!” 

Drew chuckled. “Actually, it’s called ‘Those Were The Days’. Here, why don’t you help me change the oil?” 

“Can I really?” CJ squealed. 

“Sure.” Drew handed her a rag and the oil can. “Can you hold onto these for me until I need them?” 

CJ agreed enthusiastically. As he slid underneath the car, he could hear CJ singing along to “Those Were The Days” by Mary Hopkin. Its bright key, simple notes, and catchy chorus made it easy for the three-year-old to sing along, even though she didn’t have a clue what she was singing about half the time. 

As the two worked on the car some more after the song had ended, CJ asked, “Drew?” 

“Yes, CJ?” 

“What does ‘those were the days’ mean?” 

Drew sighed. “It means that life used to be a lot simpler.” 

“Like when Mommy and Daddy were little?” 

“Yeah.” Of course, he knew that his parents had had anything but a simple childhood, but he didn’t need to tell her that. “Or before all the guys had to go overseas.” 

“I miss Paul.” CJ said suddenly. 

“I know, kid. I miss him, too.” It had been nearly three months since Paul had shipped out with his Navy carrier group to Vietnam. He could tell his parents missed him every single minute, given how many times his mother tried to shield her tears from them. After an awkward pause, he changed the subject. “Are you ready to go to preschool in the fall?” 

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I’m gonna learn my letters and numbers and be smarter than anybody else.” 

Drew laughed. “I think that’s a very good plan. Say, I think the car’s just about finished. What do you say we go in and see what Mom’s cooking up for lunch.” 

“Okay.” Drew picked her up and, on impulse, swung her around in the way that worried his mother, but delighted his baby sister. Holding her close as they re-entered the house, he knew the time would come soon when he would be drafted, too. He just hoped CJ would be able to handle it. 

… 

The next weekend, an argument took place that would be a turning point in young CJ’s life. On that day, she was eating breakfast with her parents (Drew was already off spending the day with his girlfriend at the time) when she saw a picture in the newspaper of a women’s march holding signs. While she didn’t know what the signs said, let alone what they meant, she recognized the picture as being from a protest. She knew what a protest was: she had seen in the news about the Vietnam protests at the University of Dayton just earlier that year. 

“Daddy?” She asked her father. 

Tal looked up from where he was grading papers. “Yes, Claudia?” 

“What’s this?” She said, pointing to the picture. 

“That’s a bunch of women sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” 

That comment caught the ear of Jean, who was clearing the breakfast dishes. “And just how do you figure that, Tal?” 

“Women saying we don’t pay them enough, that they can’t have jobs, that they can’t...wear pants, for crying out loud! All these women!” 

Jean paused as she listened to her husband rant. The fact of the matter was, she had been summarily dismissed from her high school teaching job after she married, despite her being among the most popular teachers in the school. If she wasn’t here serving breakfast to her husband and daughter, she would be right out there protesting with those incredibly brave college students. 

CJ was quiet as her father finished speaking. Then, she said, “But why aren’t men and women the same?” 

Tal looked at his daughter in surprise. Her innocent question had caught him off-guard. Though he wasn’t a feminist by any stretch of the imagination, he did enjoy a good old-fashioned intellectual debate. 

“Well, there are some people who believe that women should be at home, getting married and raising families. Like your mother did. But some women think they are capable of much more than that.” 

“Like?” 

“Like having jobs outside the home. Do...well, whatever men can do.” 

“Is that true for girls, too?” 

Jean nodded. “Yes, it’s absolutely true for girls. You are capable of doing whatever anyone else can do, Claudia Jean. Don’t ever forget that.” 

CJ nodded slowly. “Yes, Mommy. Can I go play outside now?” 

Something in CJ’s innocence caused Jean to laugh aloud. “Of course you can, dear. Just remember to stay in the yard where I can see you.” 

“Okay!” CJ ran out into the front yard-a a typical picket-fence lined yard-and began to play with her Cabbage Patch dolls. But something in the driveway caught her interest. Drew had returned home, and he and a few of his friends were playing basketball. CJ, hearing her mother’s words reverberating in her head, decided that she could play, too. Standing up, she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her onto the driveway, where Drew and his friends Chris and Anthony were playing. 

“Can I play?” she requested in her small voice. 

Anthony, Chris, and Drew stopped what they were doing and looked at her. But before Drew could do or say anything, Anthony and Chris both started to laugh. 

“What, are you crazy?” Anthony said. “Girls can’t play basketball.” 

“Can too.” 

“Um, can’t.” Anthony shot back. He was a good friend to Drew but could be quite arrogant when he wanted to be. 

“Can.” 

“Can’t.” 

“Can.” 

“Can’t. Can’t. Can’t!” 

Chris stepped in. “C’mon, Tony, just let her play.” 

“We have a pretty good game going here, and I’m not gonna let a little kid like her mess things up completely.” 

“Well, I’m her brother,” Drew said, finally speaking up from where he was watching his friends argue. “And I say we let her.” 

“Come on!” Anthony said. “You really want to let your little sister tag along with you wherever you go?” 

“No.” CJ was crushed. Her brother didn’t want to hang out with her? 

But what she heard next cheered her up. “But I want her to do what any other guys can do. And if that means letting her shoot a few baskets with us, then I say let’s let her.” Drew smiled softly. “She’s my little sister. She’s the only one I’ve got, I want to make her happy. Especially with-”

“With Paul gone?” Chris supplied. He knew the close relationship the elder Cregg brother shared with his baby sister. 

“He made me promise to take care of her while he was gone. Help her out, teach her things. I want to keep that promise.” 

Finally, Anthony relented. “Okay. A few baskets.” 

“Yay!” CJ cried, jumping up and down as Drew picked her up. 

He set her down in front of the hoop and handed her the ball. “Okay, you’re too little to really dribble, but I’ll teach you the basic art.” Using his hands, he showed CJ how to bounce the ball up and down, then throw it. The four then decided to pick up their game. Drew showed CJ where to dribble and how to throw it to whoever was “open”; in this case, it was Chris. Then, Chris passed the ball back to Drew, who handed CJ the ball, hoisted her onto his shoulders, and let her toss the ball into the net. She squealed with delight when the ball made it in. 

“I did it, I did it!” CJ exclaimed. 

“You sure did, kiddo!” Drew praised her. “High-five!” Her tiny hand connected with Drew’s larger one. 

From the porch, Jean watched as her son took his sister into his world and let her play as “one of the boys”. She could not have been more proud of her children that day. While CJ would one day have her own successes on the real basketball court, as well as in the White House, there was no way for Jean Cregg to know that she would not live to see her daughter reach her teenage years. 

… 

Five months later, it was time to celebrate as CJ Cregg turned four. Her friends from her preschool class came, as did many of the neighborhood kids. Even Anthony and Chris dropped by to wish the “littlest Flyer” a happy birthday. The birthday meal consisted of food procured from Julia Child’s recipes and a beautiful Baked Alaska cake, and CJ tore open gifts that included a Barbie, the game KerPlunk!, and her most treasured possession: a child-sized basketball. 

But the biggest birthday surprise was yet to come. As CJ finished tearing open her gifts, she heard the door open. 

“That’s strange.” she heard her mother remark. “I could’ve sworn the door was locked.” 

CJ watched in astonishment as a lanky young man walked into the room in a Navy sailor’s uniform. She was suddenly shy, realizing she didn’t know who this was. 

Suddenly, the young man said, “Happy Birthday, Squirt.” 

CJ’s face lit up. Only one person called her that. 

“PAUL!” she shrieked, running across the room and flinging herself upward. 

Paul Cregg caught her just in time and swung her around. “How’s my favorite sister doing?” 

“I’m your only sister.” CJ reminded him. 

The elder Creggs approached them. 

“Paul.” Jean choked out, tears pouring down her face. “You’re  _ home.”  _ She threw her arms around her son, squeezing her daughter in the process. 

“Mommy,” CJ said. “You’re squishing me.” 

Jean stepped back. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“Let me put you down, squirt.” Paul said, settling CJ onto the ground. 

CJ watched as her brother was embraced by Drew and Tal, then by Jean again. Then, the rest of the partygoers welcomed Paul home. Finally, her family was complete. 

She didn’t know it at the time, but across the country, in the faraway state of Connecticut, tragedy was about to strike a family much like her own, with a little boy with whom she would know very well one day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And that’s a good lead-in to Josh’s chapter! I hope you enjoyed this take on CJ. Please let me know what you thought! 


	7. Ave Maria (November-December)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s Josh’s chapter. I actually built this story around this chapter. It’s a sad chapter, but it’s part of Josh’s life. A warning: this chapter will deal with a significant death in canon. Hope you enjoy it anyway, please read and review! 

Chapter 6: Ave Maria (November-December) 

_ Joshua Lyman _

_ Westport, Connecticut  _

… 

The school bell rang in Grant Elementary School, and seven-year-old Josh Lyman was ready to race out the door. 

“All right, children!” his teacher, Mrs. Jorgenson, called out. “Your themes are due Monday. Do not forget! Have a nice weekend!” 

Josh raced down the hall, stopping only at his cubby to grab his backpack. He couldn’t wait to get to his piano lesson. His parents had offered to get him piano lessons from a professional, but there was one person he thought was better than any of those other piano teachers out there. 

13-year-old Joanie was the best pianist he had ever seen. She had long, wavy chestnut hair like his, crystal blue eyes, and slender fingers that made her particularly talented on the piano and violin. 

Josh could see her sitting on the bench in front of his school; school had ended for her a half-hour earlier. Her blue and white school uniform was crisply ironed, and she was reading a book. 

She looked up, saw Josh, and waved as he approached. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Josh replied as they began to make their way home, just six blocks away from where the school was in downtown Westport. 

“How was school?” she asked. 

“School was...school. We have to write another theme.” 

“You know, Josh, someday when you get to junior high, you’ll find that themes are just the beginning.” 

“I have to write about what I want for Christmas.” 

“Just write about what you want for Hanukkah.” 

“I guess.” Josh’s face lit up. “Race you home!” 

He took off, and Joanie yelled, “Joshua!” She had no choice but to run after him, and the pair raced home to their white picket-fenced house. 

They burst into the kitchen, where Rachel Lyman was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for that night. They weren’t overtly religious in celebrating the Sabbath, but they still lit the candles and went to the synagogue. A plate of baked chicken was sitting on the counter. Josh leaned in to sneak a bite. 

“Leave it, Joshua.” His mother said. 

Josh froze. “How’d you know I was going to…” 

“Mothers have a way of knowing,” Rachel replied, turning around to face him. ‘Don’t you have a piano lesson to practice?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Josh ran into the living room, where the grand piano sat. Joanie was sitting at the piano, warming it up. Josh recognized the music as “Ave Maria”. He leaned against the piano, watching her play. 

“What does that song even mean, anyway?” 

“It’s Latin. ‘Hail Mary’.” Joanie responded without looking up. 

“Can I practice now?” 

“One second.” She followed through to the end of the piece, finishing with a flourish. “Okay, now you.” 

Josh took her place at the piano, and Joanie sat next to him. He took out his practice piece, “Chanukah, O Chanukah”: he was planning on surprising his extended family with the piece when everyone came over for Hanukkah the next month. 

He played through the relatively simple piece. Then Joanie started asking him, “What is this rhythm here?” and “What key are we in?” Her goal was to teach Josh musical theory as well as how to play the piano. She hoped that she could make her little brother into a real musician one day. 

After the blessings that night, the four Lymans dug into their meal. 

“Joanie?” Rachel asked, gaining her daughter’s attention. 

“Yes, Mom?” Joanie replied. 

“Your father and I have to go out on Sunday night. Mr. Glassman from the law firm is throwing a dinner party for the associates, and we’ve been invited.” 

“Is that a good thing, Dad?” Josh asked. 

“Pretty good,” Noah responded to his son. Noah Lyman was a man of few words but still managed to get his point across. “It means I’m moving up in the law firm. Might even make partner soon.” 

“That’s great, Daddy!” Joanie exclaimed. 

“Anyway,” Rachel cut in. “Joanie, would you be willing to babysit your brother Sunday night?” 

“Really?” Joanie said excitedly. “You think I’m old enough to babysit?” 

“Yes, I think you’re mature, and I think we can trust you to keep an eye on your brother for four hours.” 

“Mom, you won’t be sorry, I promise!” Joanie grinned. 

… 

Years later, Josh would, during fitful nights of sleep, try to reconstruct the events from that Sunday night. It was so strange, the things he could remember and the things he couldn’t. For example, he remembered Joanie on the phone ordering pizza right after his parents left. Josh had finished his homework, and he was simultaneously practicing his new piano lesson, “Moonlight Sonata”, and watching his favorite show on TV,  _ Land of The Giants.  _

Fifteen minutes later, the pizza had arrived, and Joanie and Josh were sitting on the sofa, eating their dinner and watching the TV. As the show ended, Joanie got up to change the channel. 

“Joanie? What are you doing? I wanted to watch  _ The FBI!”  _

“You know the TV rules, Josh. You can watch one thing you like, then it’s my turn.  _ Ed Sullivan _ ’s on tonight.” 

“But I hate  _ Ed Sullivan!”  _

“Come on. That puppet group you like is on tonight.” 

At this, Josh perked up a little. “The Muppets?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” Joanie consulted the  _ TV Guide _ . “So’s Dusty Springfield and the guy who played Buddy on  _ Dick Van Dyke. _ ” She could see Josh was starting to relent, and she decided to sweeten the deal a little. “I’ll make popcorn.” 

“Okay.” Josh finally agreed. “We’ll watch your show.” Joanie disappeared into the kitchen, and Josh changed the dial to their CBS affiliate. It was shaping up to be a good night. 

When he tried later to reconstruct events, Josh realized he didn’t remember when it first hit him that the house was on fire. He was so engrossed in watching Morey Amsterdam do his comedy bits that he jerked up in surprise when he heard shrieking coming from the Lymans’ newly-installed smoke detector, and smoke billowing out of the kitchen. 

“Joanie!” Josh yelled into the kitchen. “Joanie!” 

He heard coughing, then the sound of clattering. Then he heard, “Josh, just go! I have to call the fire department, and then I’ll be out. Just run!” 

Without a second thought to his sister or the fact that their home was being engulfed by flames, he did what his sister told him. He ran out the front door. 

It would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

… 

Noah and Rachel were driving back from their dinner party when they heard the sirens. Pulling onto their block, they were met by a crowd of people gathered in front of a house. 

“Oh, God, Noah!” Rachel suddenly said. “That’s our house!” 

Noah pulled over into the lawn of the house next door. They were immediately met by their neighbors, the Watermans. 

“Noah, Rachel,” Liz Waterman said, completely out of breath, “the children-” 

“Did they make it out?” Rachel asked, so frightened she could barely speak. 

“Josh is out. He’s the one that told us what happened.” 

“What about Joan?” Noah asked. “What about our Joanie?” 

The look on their friend’s face was all the confirmation they needed. Rachel gasped for air, sobbing as she fell into Noah. Noah’s face turned pale as a sheet, and he looked visibly crushed. Gently, he steered Rachel into Liz’s direction, ensuring she would be looked after as he went to talk to the firefighters. 

He caught up to the police, who held him back. 

“It’s all right, Officers, this is my house,” Noah told them. “I need to speak with the firefighters.” 

The police officer gave him a look of sympathy, then let him go. Noah approached the firemen. 

“I’m Noah Lyman, this is my house.” 

In response, the fire captain in charge said, “Is this your son?” He stepped aside to reveal Josh, huddled behind the man’s legs. The look of pure trauma in his eyes was indescribable. 

“Joshua?” Noah said gently, crouching down to his level. “Son?” 

“Dad?” Josh said in a small voice. Gingerly, he stepped around the firefighters and ran straight into his father’s arms. 

Noah picked him up, holding him tight. He turned to the captain. “What happened?” 

“Faulty wiring. Apparently, your daughter was making popcorn, and there was an explosion.” 

“Popcorn.” Josh muttered. “Joanie.” 

Noah looked at his son worriedly. 

“He’ll get better. With time.” After this, the man removed his hat. “Mr. Lyman, your daughter...well, if the flames haven’t gotten to her by now, then the smoke surely has. I suppose it’s a bit of a blessing in a way, that way she didn’t feel anything.” 

But that knowledge was of little comfort to Noah or Josh. Noah just held Josh closer and looked at what was left of his house, knowing instinctively that their lives would never be the same again. 

… 

The next 48 hours passed in a bit of a daze for Josh. Relatives came by his grandparents’ house (where the family was staying), whispering, crying, hugging. The funeral would be held on Monday, and then they would sit  _ shiva  _ for a week. 

Josh would barely remember the funeral. His therapist told him later that his subconscious likely blocked out the burial itself. He remembered it was held at his family’s temple, that they played a setting of “Ave Maria”, and that the rabbi offered a moving eulogy. He remembered both of his parents weeping at the gravesite, but couldn’t remember watching them lower his sister into the ground. It was probably for the best, he thought later. 

The  _ shiva  _ period of mourning went about how he expected it to go. His mother spent most of the period when she wasn’t greeting mourners up in the guest room. And Josh stayed in a chair in the corner, except when his father told him to say hello to people they knew. The piano was closed, and nobody went near it. 

Josh thought things would go back to “normal” after the  _ shiva _ had ended-well, as normal as things could be with the gaping hole in all of their hearts that deep down, he knew would never be filled. 

But life did go on, though Josh noticed as he went back to school that people looked at him differently. Kids would just stare at him in the hallways, and not talk to him. Teachers would give him sympathetic looks and say, “If there’s anything we can do for your family…” or “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling…” 

_ They’re right.  _ Josh thought.  _ They can’t imagine what I’m feeling.  _ Though on the outside, he acted appropriately mournfully, inside it was even worse. And nighttime was the worst time of all. 

The images of that night haunted him every time he tried to go to sleep. The smoke, the flames, the panicked look in Joanie’s eyes when she told him to run. That was the last time he had seen his sister. 

Why hadn’t he taken her hand? 

Why hadn’t he saved her? 

The thoughts were pure torture. And it didn’t help that his parents were so wrapped up in their grief that they didn’t notice him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his mother smile or laugh. 

Finally, one night the week before Hanukkah, the family was eating dinner in their “new normal”-together but separately. Noah had his mind in his new case, Rachel was trying to think of anything but how horribly she missed Joanie, and Josh was thinking hard about the next week. And he decided to bite the bullet and ask. 

“Are we going to celebrate Hanukkah this year?” 

His parents both looked at each other in surprise, then looked at him. 

Noah cleared his throat. “Well, son, we weren’t sure you would want to. Or that we would want to, for that matter.” 

“I think we should,” Josh said. “For Joanie.” He thought about how much his sister had loved the Festival of Lights. 

“Joshua…” Rachel trailed off. “I just think it’s too soon.” 

“No, it’s not!” Josh said, suddenly feeling something in him change. Like a twig or a tree branch, he snapped. “Joanie loved Hanukkah. We should try to remember her the way she would want to be remembered. You would remember and celebrate me if I was gone. That’s the way it was supposed to be anyway.” 

Noah looked up, shocked. “What do you mean, that was the way it was supposed to be?” 

“I should’ve gotten Joanie out. I shouldn’t have run.” 

“Josh, come here.” Noah’s voice was firm but caring. Rachel stared down at her plate, her eyes glistening with tears. 

Josh approached his father, and Noah placed a hand on his shoulder. “What happened to your sister was a horrible, horrible tragedy, but it was most certainly not your fault. Do you hear me?” Josh nodded slowly. 

Noah reached for Rachel’s hand. “Your mother and I are so grateful that you’re here with us, because, well, I don’t know what we would do if we had lost both our children.” He paused. “It may not be a completely happy Hanukkah. But we will celebrate somehow, I promise.” 

Josh looked at him with sad eyes and hugged him. After a minute, he felt his father hug him back. 

It was a long road, they all knew. But they would get through it together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow. That was a hard chapter to write, but it had to be done. Next up will be an epilogue, where we will hopefully move into happier ground. Please let me know what you thought. 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s the epilogue of this story! I hope you enjoyed this look into the formative years of the Bartlet Senior Staff. I hope you like this last chapter, please read and review! 

Epilogue: 

_ Tuesday, December 31, 1968  _

_ Islington, London, England  _

It was quite a different New Year from the year before, and yet it was so much better. 

While Abbey Bartlet still missed her family and friends back home in Boston, she had adjusted to life in London. She loved her husband with all her heart, and she now had a new basis for her life and her family. 

Looking around the living room, she laid out the champagne flutes. Just like the previous year, they had a New Years’ special on in the background, with one difference-they now had a TV set for their living room. It had been a Christmas present from Abbey’s parents, who otherwise sent gifts for four-month-old Elizabeth. 

Speaking of Elizabeth, Abbey could hear wails wafting down the stairs and Jed pacing with her up and down the hall. She decided to go upstairs and see what she could do to relieve her husband. 

  
  
Climbing the stairs, Abbey heard Jed softly singing to their now quieter daughter. It was an old tune, one that they both loved. 

_ Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly, lavender’s green _

_ When I am king, dilly-dilly, you shall be queen…  _

His voice trailed off when he saw Abbey leaning into the doorway of the nursery. “How long have you been standing there?” 

Abbey shrugged. “Long enough.” Her smile softened. “You’re always so good with her.” 

“Well, she’s Daddy’s little girl, isn’t she?” Jed said, grinning as gently bounced Elizabeth on his shoulder.

Just then, Abbey looked at her watch. “Guess what?” 

“What?” Jed asked, confused. 

“It’s midnight.” 

“Midnight.” He repeated to himself. He had completely forgotten it was New Year’s Eve. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” 

“Well, in my defense, I had a pretty good reason for not remembering.” 

Abbey grinned. “Yes, I suppose.” 

Jed closed the gap between them and kissed Abbey softly on the lips. “Happy New Year.” 

“Happy New Year, Jethro.” Then, she broke the kiss and leaned over to place a soft kiss on her daughter’s cheek. Jed did the same with the other one. 

“Happy New Year, Elizabeth Ann.” Abbey whispered. 

“I think she’s been the best part of this New Year.” Jed commented. 

“I agree,” Abbey replied. As they stood in a tight family embrace, their daughter between them, they knew that 1969 was going to be an even better year for both of them. Well, all three of them. 

… 

_ Chicago, IL:  _

“By the power vested in me by God and the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss your bride.” 

Applause broke out as Leo, in a tuxedo, kissed his new bride Jenny. It had been a wild and crazy year, but not more so than the last three months. 

Leo returned from Vietnam a different man, a broken man. He faced the reality nearly every day of not just his physical wounds, but his emotional wounds. What he had seen in Vietnam was beyond comprehension, certainly beyond anything his fiancee could understand. But he forged ahead with his life anyway. He told Jenny that he wanted to get married as soon as he was back on his feet. He didn’t want to waste another minute of his life. So, there they were, celebrating an afternoon Nuptial Mass on New Year’s Eve. 

Unfortunately for Leo, he had inherited from Joe McGarry the one trait he did not want to ever inherit from his father: a drinking problem. He was careful not to get drunk in front of Jenny, but alone when the demons got to be too much…

He shoved these thoughts aside as he looked deep into his wife’s blue eyes. After all, it wasn’t really a problem yet, was it? 

Several hours later, they were in a hotel ballroom, dancing the night away, as the clock crept closer to midnight. There was a drink in his hand, and Jenny watched with concern as he downed it fairly quickly. 

“Leo?” She asked. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” 

Leo looked at the glass in his hand, then at Jenny. Resolving that he could decide when he had enough, he walked over to the bar, deliberately set his glass down, and walked back over to her. 

“See? I’m fine.” 

The euphoria of the night seemed to bring her back to life. “All right.” 

There was no more talk for either one of them as the clock outside chimed midnight, and the crowd burst into applause at the excitement of the new year. 

Leo kissed his new wife. “Happy New Year, Mrs. McGarry.” 

“Happy New Year, Mr. McGarry,” Jenny said right back. 

They embraced and danced to “Auld Lang Syne”, only this was a jazz band version arranged by Glenn Miller, one of Leo’s favorite musicians. 

As Leo saw the New Year in as a newly married man, he didn’t know what lay in store for the next few years of his life-whether he and Jenny would have kids, or even what he would do with the rest of his life. But he knew that he could lick this drinking problem-if it was a problem-if he tried. All he needed was his wife’s support. 

… 

_ Brooklyn, NY:  _

“Come on, Toby, it’s starting!” 

Toby raced down from his bedroom, where his sister was queueing up their local NBC affiliate to watch the Guy Lombardo special. 

“Where have you been all night?” Beth asked, a smile on her face. 

Toby shrugged. “Writing.” 

“Guess that journal we gave you is being put to good use,” Rebecca said. His mother and his brother and sisters had surprised him on his 14th birthday a week earlier with movie tickets- _ The Lion In Winter- _ and this journal, engraved with his name. He had never been so touched by a birthday present, a place to put his innermost thoughts. 

A lot of those innermost thoughts had to deal with his parents’ divorce. Julie and Rebecca had quietly dissolved their marriage three months earlier, and Julie had slipped out of their lives. The occasional phone call and birthday card, but to Toby, he knew it was the excuse Julie had been waiting for to get away from the shame he felt he had brought on his family since the day he was arrested. 

Toby was brought out of his thoughts by David shaking his shoulder, saying, “It’s the countdown!” 

The four kids counted down from 10, then cheered as 1969 flashed on the screen and the ball dropped into Times Square. Then, they all looked at each other and raced outside as fireworks burst into the sky from Manhattan. 

Toby looked around at his family, all watching the festivities, grinning from ear to ear. This was the only family he needed, he thought. He didn’t need his father. In 30 years, he might feel differently, but right now, this was all he needed. 

… 

_ Santa Monica, CA:  _

Four-year-old Sam was beyond excited. This was the first year he had ever been allowed to stay up until midnight, and he was spending the new year with his parents in one of his favorite places: his father’s sailboat. 

On the boat  _ Ainsley _ , Sam was running up and down the length of the deck, before plopping himself down in front of his toys. Like that day at the beach so many months ago, he was staging a battle with GI Joe and Superman. Waving his action figures in the air, and with Ringo having a prominent spot on a deck chair nearby, it was of great surprise to him when he heard his mother calling him out of his playtime. 

“Sam!” 

He whipped his head around. “Yes, Mommy?” 

“Come over here. It’s almost midnight.” 

“Really?!” He couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. He ran over to Emily, crawling onto her lap. “Where’s Daddy?” 

“Daddy’s right here,” said Norman, joining his wife and son on the deck. 

“Where have you been?” Emily asked quietly. 

“Just a supply run. What did you think, I was going to miss ringing in the New Year with my wife and kid?” Norman replied. But the alcohol on his breath convinced Emily otherwise. While she may not ever have proof of her husband’s indiscretions, she always knew they were there. For now, though, she hugged Sam close. 

“Would you like to hear what Sam has been practicing?” 

“Sure thing, pal,” Norman said, reaching over to tousle Sam’s hair. 

Emily pulled out a copy of  _ Corduroy,  _ a brand new children’s book that she had been using to practice with Sam. She opened to the first page and let Sam have at it. 

“Corduroy is a bear who once lived in the toy department of a big store.” Sam read almost effortlessly. “Day after day he waited with all the other animals and dolls for somebody to come along and take him home.” He stopped there and grinned at his father. 

Norman was impressed. “Where did you learn to read like that?” 

“Mommy taught me,” Sam said sweetly. Just then, noise was heard from the harbor, and Norman checked his watch. 

“Guess what, Sam? It’s the new year.” 

At this, Sam squealed and hugged Emily, then Norman. “Happy New Year, Mommy and Daddy.” 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” Emily said to him, kissing his brown hair. Norman hugged him. They might not get along, but they loved their son with all their heart. 

… 

_ Dayton, OH:  _

It was nearly midnight in the Cregg house, and just like last year, CJ was determined to be awake at midnight. She sat on the couch between her parents, after being reminded by her father that she was to go to bed after the ball fell. Drew had gone to a friend’s house down the street. 

Paul walked into the living room, taking in the sweet sight of his baby sister curled up on the couch, watching the New Year’s celebration on TV. She had been the light at the end of the tunnel, the reason he worked so hard to come home. 

CJ looked around her mother, and her eyes lit up. “Paul!” she said, reaching her arms up. Paul smiled, obliging her by swinging her up into his arms. 

“It’s almost the New Year!” CJ said excitedly. 

“I know, CJ. Are you excited?” That was a rhetorical question, of course, given the look of enthusiasm on her face. 

He sighed, holding her close. This time last year, going off to the Navy had been an abstract concept, only a thought until he signed the enlistment papers. But now, he had gone to war, seen things he wished he could unsee and was more than ready to return home, go to college, and get on with his life. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by CJ tugging on his shirt. “It’s the New Year!” 

Paul turned around towards the TV. Sure enough, 1969 was flashing on the screen. 

“Happy New Year, Paul!” CJ said, before loudly kissing him on the cheek. 

“Happy New Year, squirt,” Paul replied, before being embraced by his parents.

“All right, Claudia Jean,” Jean said, standing up and taking her daughter. “It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

CJ sighed in defeat. “Okay.” 

“I’ll come to tuck you in, all right?” Paul offered. 

“Okay!” CJ said happily. Jean carried her off to her bedroom, and Paul followed, eager to soak in every last moment with his sister that he could. After all, he never knew if that day would be his last. 

… 

_ Westport, CT:  _

Josh sat on the couch in the living room, numbly listening to the Disneyland broadcast. Had it really only been a year since he had listened to the same broadcast with Joanie? 

His parents were talking quietly in the kitchen, neither of them ready to address the hanging black cloud over their lives. They had since moved into a new house, which the synagogue had helped raise money for after they lost everything in the fire. They hadn’t been able to bring themselves to replace the piano they had lost-just another reminder of the enormous loss they had suffered. 

It was New Year’s, but it sure wasn’t happy. 

Josh checked his watch: 11:58. He decided to go into the kitchen, figuring that if he was going to be sad and lonely, he may as well do it with his parents. Both looked up as soon as Josh entered. 

“Joshua?” Rachel asked. “Are you all right, honey?” 

Josh shook his head. “I miss Joanie.” 

Rachel’s face softened. “I know, baby, I know. I miss her, too.” She picked up her son, exchanging a worried glance with Noah. Suddenly, a thought began to occur to her. “But you know what?” 

Josh shook his head again. “What?” 

“Joanie wouldn’t want us to be sad.” 

His ears perked up. “She wouldn’t?” 

“No.” Noah joined the conversation. “Your mother’s right. She loved New Year’s the best of all the holidays, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate her than to see the New Year in right.” 

Rachel nodded softly, and the three of them walked into the living room, ready to put the ill-fated 1968 behind them. Just then, the radio crackled with the noise of the countdown. 

As the cheering commenced, for the first time since Joanie died, Josh began to sing.  _ “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind…”  _

_ “Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne?”  _ His parents joined in bravely, choosing to honor their lost daughter’s life instead of remembering her death. 

One would always be missing, but the Lymans would always be sure to have a Happy New Year. 

… 

As the year 1968 closed out, most of the families around the country and abroad had no idea what lay ahead for 1969-and beyond. 

Jed and Abbey Bartlet knew that eventually, they would move back to the States, but they couldn’t have predicted that they would have two more daughters-or that Jed would eventually become the leader of the free world. 

Leo McGarry’s “drinking problem” would eventually almost do him in, but at the same time, he would rise above it and be Chief of Staff to a man he would consider his best friend. 

Toby Ziegler had no idea that he would have a strained relationship with his father for the rest of his life-or that they would make the first steps towards peace on his 48th birthday. 

Sam Seaborn would indeed grow up to be a writer, but not the kind of writer he anticipated when he was making up poems in the bedroom of his house in Laguna Beach. He also could not have known that the distance between his parents was only beginning-and that a shocking betrayal would leave him sleeping in his office in denial for two days straight. 

CJ Cregg didn’t know that she would grow up to be a force to be reckoned with in the DC area, or that she would eventually fall in love with her future husband at the White House, of all places. 

Josh Lyman knew that there was a part of him that would never get over losing his sister. But he knew he would be able to move on somehow. But what he didn’t know then was that a woman, the love of his life, who hadn’t even been born yet-in fact, was little more than an abstract thought at the time-would change his life and remind his mother, in her own way, of the girl they lost.

And elsewhere, all across the US, dozens of others: seven-year-old Matthew Santos of Houston, watching the fireworks with his extended family in the Second Ward; 28-year-old attorney Arnold Vinick of California, ringing in the New Year with his new wife; Delores Landingham of New Hampshire, an administrative assistant with a husband and twin sons, college graduates on their way to medical school-all rang in the New Year, having no concept of how much they would all come to mean to each other in 30 years. 

Now, it was time to turn the calendar and begin a new chapter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed the ending to this story! Please let me know what you thought, and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed this first chapter! The story will continue chapter by chapter, exploring the different lives of the young Senior Staff. First up-Jed and Abbey! Please let me know what you thought!


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